The Shrill Cry of a Whistle
by dandelion fairy
Summary: Moth trips over her own feet and tumbles headfirst into another time, another place. Is she dreaming, or is she really in 1899? This headstrong modern girl is NOT your typical,fluff-headed OC. She's got a brain, too, and more than just half a one...Revise
1. Welcome to Man'att'n

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. However I DO own Moth, and you steal the name, you __**will**__ regret it._

Moth was walking home from school that day. She was wearing her favorite hat, a dusty blue colored one that reminded her a little of a newsboy. Her short hair was tucked behind her ears, and her knobby knees were just poking out from under the black skirt she had to wear every day at school. She trudged down the sidewalk slowly, wishing that she had saved a cookie from lunch for a snack. Basically, everything was normal.

Just then Moth tripped. This was nothing out of the ordinary, because Moth was known to be clumsy at times. But as she fell, she noticed everything, every detail of her surroundings, as though she was falling in slow motion. It seemed like a full five minutes that Moth fell, and she heard, distantly, the noise of a car speeding by, her backpack falling to the ground with a thud… and then, so clear that it made her cringe: the shrill cry of a whistle.

Then everything happened in a blur. Moth hit the ground hard, and instead of the scrape of sidewalk, she was met with the thud of dirt. As she stood up, she heard a high-pitched whinny and a shout from above. She ducked back down, and a split second later, she heard another shout and felt someone yank her up and pull her away.

After being dragged off a few feet, Moth spun around fists raised, and faced the stranger.

He couldn't have been too much older than herself, and he looked friendly enough, leaning up against a brick wall that blocked everything behind it from view. Besides, Moth couldn't just punch a person wearing a decent hat, and this boy was wearing a black cowboy hat. She lowered her fists and instinctively reached for the key she wore around her neck, a key she had found up in the attic in a little box one day. She never had found out what it opened, but she liked it anyway and wore it practically 24/7.

Moth gasped. "It's gone," she whispered.

"What's gone?"

Moth looked back up at the boy in the cowboy hat. She had almost forgotten he was standing there, but he was, and he was also apparently expecting an answer.

"Um… nothing, never mind." Moth shook her head. "Sorry. Uh, well, thanks and everything, but I have to go now—"

But as soon as Moth turned around, she saw that she was lost. Really, really lost. A horse pulling a run-down buggy trotted past, and a few women in long skirts and big hats walked past shops with crates of fresh produce outside under their awnings.

"What is this, Amish country?" Moth asked before she could stop herself.

"Whadda ya talkin' about, this is good ol' Man'att'n, miss."

Moth turned around and gave the boy in the hat a questioning look. "Yeah, okay… I don't believe you. Who'd you say you were again?"

The boy laughed. "Name's Kelley, Jack Kelley. An' I'm tellin' you da truth."

"No," Moth argued. "This is not Manhattan, okay? Manhattan is in New York. We are..." she trailed off.

"You ain't from 'round here, are ya?"

"Yes. Well, I think I am."

Jack frowned. "You hit yer head?"

"No!"

"Okay den. Jus' makin' sure…" He thought for a minute. "What year is it?"

Moth rolled her eyes. "2008, stupid. Now, tell me what street we're on or else I'll… What _is_ so funny?"

Jack was laughing hysterically. "Sorry," he said. "I guess I shouldn' be laughin'. But ya know, you ain't even close. 'S only 1899, if you'll b'lieve that."

"Okay. So maybe I did hit my head. When I fell. Fine, okay, I'm in a coma, and I'm dreaming." Moth took three deep breaths. "I believe you," she told Jack.

There was a long minute of silence.

"But I'm still lost," Moth added, almost as an afterthought.

"I'd say you are," Jack replied. "But ya look kinda familiar… What's yer name?"

"Moth," Moth replied. "And no, it is not my real name. But you are not going to ask what my real name is, okay? Because it's really stupid."

Jack grinned. "Yeah, I know 'bout _dat. _A'right den, ya got yerself a deal, Moth."

Jack spat into his palm and held out his hand to shake. Moth considered it for a minute, then spat into her own palm and shook.

"Welcome to Man'att'n, Moth."


	2. 1025

_Disclaimer: I still don't own Newsies. But if I ever do, I'll let you know! (yeah, I'll send my flying pig with a message…) _

"Sure yer alright?" Jack asked, pocketing a few pennies from the newspapers he had just sold.

"Yeah," Moth answered, but she was still thinking about the missing key and wondering how it was possible to be comatose after tripping on the sidewalk.

"If ya say so," Jack said. "Say, ya eva been ta Man'att'n befoa?"

"No…"

"Where ya from, den? Brooklyn?"

Moth shook her head. "Really far away, okay?" She pulled her hat down just a bit lower and gave Jack a look that meant she didn't feel like answering questions.

"Sorry," Jack said. "But if ya don't got nowhere ta go, why don' cha jus' stay wit me an' da Newsies?"

"Because I'm not a charity case," Moth replied curtly, "and because I'll be awake soon enough." She paused. "But I might sell some papers, if I have to," she added.

"I might sell some papers," Jack mocked in a high-pitched voice. "Papes, is what we call 'em," he informed her.

"Fine. I might sell some _papes_," Moth shot back. "But I _won't_ accept charity!"

"Suit yerself," Jack said with a shrug.

Night was falling. The temperature was dropping several degrees, and Moth was getting worried.

"Wake up, stupid!" she muttered. But that little voice in the back of her head was whispering… _Wake up? You still think you're in a coma? Talk about stupid! You think you're having an elaborate dream? How can you be just dreaming? This is full-scale, and you know it. _

Jack had gone into the lodging house about a half hour ago, and now Moth was sitting at the feet of Horace Greeley, feeling very alone. And very hungry. She remembered lunch at school—nasty, sticky macaroni—and actually felt her mouth water.

"This is getting ridiculous," she muttered. She remembered, though, her vow not to take charity from Jack or any other newsie, but she knew she was just being stubborn. All alone in an unfamiliar city at night: it was beginning to sound like one of those pleasant stories she had heard about kids who had gotten kidnapped and then found in a dumpster somewhere.

"You're just being stubborn, Moth," she told herself, feeling a definite chill now. Her school blouse was not warm at all.

"Moth… Is dat yer name?"

Moth jumped up and looked around. There was nobody in sight. "Who said that?" she demanded.

"Ansa my question foist," the voice said.

"Fine. My name's Moth," Moth said gruffly. "Now come out."

She heard thin-soled shoes hit the pavement on the other side of the statue; once again her hands balled into fists, and she stood at the ready.

A boy who looked her age and was almost her exact height appeared to Moth's left. "No need ta fight or nuttin'," he said, holding up his hands.

"Who are you?" Moth asked.

"Conlon. Spot Conlon. Ya got a problem or somethin'?"

At that moment, as Spot stepped forward, Moth saw something glint between the folds of his shirt.

"What's that around your neck?" she asked suspiciously. An odd feeling was bubbling up inside her, and it had something to do with the item she had lost.

Spot's expression instantly changed from friendly to defensive and cold. "Why do ya wanna know? If yer gonna bother me 'bout it, it's a key, alright? Now mind yer own business."

"You thief," Moth said quietly, her fists tightly clenched. She took a step forward. "You stole that from me, you rotten thief! That's mine!"

"Ya idiot! I had it all my life!"

"Fine. Maybe it was a mistake." Moth dropped her hands to her sides and gave the boy an apologetic look. "Can I just see it? Please?"

Spot frowned, but consented. He held it out to Moth, and she looked closely at it. Then she saw the distinctive mark, the numbers etched into it: 1025.

"I… It's my key! That's the number on it!" she exclaimed.

Spot snatched it back. "Oh yeah? Yeah? Who do ya think you are, anyway?"

Moth could see that this was about to turn into a fight, but at that moment she saw Jack, hurrying over to them.

"Moth?" he asked. "What're ya still doin' here?" Then he saw Spot. "Spot Conlon? Why ain't you in Brooklyn?"

No one replied. Moth and Spot just continued to glare at each other. Finally Moth spoke.

"He stole my key!" she said. "I was wearing it today, and when you found me I noticed it was lost! And the numbers on it—they're the same!"

"She's spittin' nonsense," Spot countered. "Jackie boy, ya know dis is mine!"

Jack shook his head. "Sorry, Moth," he said. "It's Spot's alright. He almos' soaked me fer askin' about it, too, when I foirst met 'im."

Spot shot Moth a contemptuous look. Moth glowered.

"_Dat's_ who ya remind me of!" Jack said suddenly. "Moth's jus' like ya, Spot," Jack said.

Spot's look went suddenly from smug to shocked, and Moth grinned at him sweetly.

Apparently Spot had had enough. "I'm outta here, Jackie boy," he said. "I was jus' visitin' Man'att'n, an' now I'se goin' home." He turned on his heel and marched away, head held high.

"Well," Moth said, loud enough for him to hear, "So am I!" and she did the same, marching right through the doors of the newsboy's lodging house.

Jack just stood there for a minute. Then he looked up at the face of the statue and muttered, "I'll neva understand half 'a what goes on, will I?"

_How do you like it so far? This is my first Newsies fanfic, so please R&R!_


	3. Kid Blink, at Yer Soivice

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies…_

When Moth found herself standing at the front desk of the newsboys lodging house, she immediately felt silly. Like, the sign said news_boys_ lodging house. What was a stupid girl who would appear to be delusional doing there?

Just as she was about to turn around and bolt out of there, an old man popped up from behind the desk.

"Hello, Miss. How can I help you?" he asked. He seemed friendly, and he was apparently expecting more of an answer than her running away, so Moth replied,

"Uh… Well, see, I'm kind of lost and it's dark and, I mean, I'm not a charity case, but I promise I'll work hard until I can go home and I guess I'm going to be a newsie even though I'm not a boy but there has to be some girls, right, I mean maybe not here but I just meant--,"

The old man smiled kindly and held up a hand. Moth stopped babbling and clamped her mouth shut, then adjusted her hat and shifted for foot to foot, waiting to be kicked out. She was too busy thinking about how she was ever going to get up in the morning if she had to sit out by the statue all night that she didn't hear what the guy had said.

"Huh?" she asked snapping out of her reverie. "I mean, what did you say?"

"Understood, young lady, I said. And if you take a bunk near the corner you won't be bothered. And yes, you were right, there are other girls. We see a few of them now and then, not much at this lodging house, but you're not alone." He smiled gently again. "I'm sure you won't have any trouble. Most of them'll be asleep by now, I'd say."

Most of them asleep! When Moth got to the top of the stairs and quietly opened the door, she was greeted by the sound of everyone talking and the occasional shout:

"Gimme dat back!"

"Hey, whaddid ya do _dat _foa?!"

"Bet ya? Race, yer _broke_!"

Then, after Moth had stood in the door for a long moment, taking it all in, someone yelled,

"Hey Fellahs! Shuddup fer a minnit, will ya?"

The room fell silent as everyone turned to Moth.

"Um… Hi, everybody," Moth said, giving a small, awkward wave. Then she crammed her hat on tighter and shuffled over to an empty bunk in the corner, just where the old guy had recommended. She sat down, causing the bed to creak.

Suddenly the room erupted again.

"Give dat back, I said, ya little shrimp!"

"I wonda whea Cowboy is, I tought he'd be back by now."

Moth had to ask. "Who's Cowboy?" she asked a boy nearby. He had a patch over one eye.

"Ya eva hoid a Jack Kelley?" the boy asked.

"Yeah," Moth replied. "He's the first person I met here. I've never been the Manhattan before," she added.

The boy grinned and introduced himself. "In dat case, pleased ta meet ya. Kid Blink, at yer soivice. You can call me Blink."

"I'm Moth."

"Really?" Kid Blink asked. "And why's dat?"

Moth shrugged. "I dunno. They called me that when I was a kid, and it just sort of became my name."

"Same wit a lot a names, ain't it?" Kid Blink grinned again. "Welcome ta da humble home a da Newsies."

"Thanks," Moth said, and was about to smile but had to stifle a yawn instead.

"Ya go ahead ta bed," Blink offered. "I'll shut dis lot up for ya."

Moth nodded sleepily and climbed up to the top bunk and curled up under the sheets.

"Heya fellahs!" Blink shouted. "Quiet down or I'll soak ya! Da goil wants ta sleep, fer goo'ness sakes!"

There were a few scattered grumblings, but everyone did shout less and talk a bit quieter.

Before Moth could thank Blink again for his help, she had fallen asleep.

_That's all for now, everybody! I'm hoping to see some more reviews soon!_


	4. Dainty as a China Teacup

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, never will. _

Moth was awakened by the old man yelling, "Get up! Get up! Carrying the banner! Sell those papers!"

"So he says _papers_, too," Moth muttered smugly, sitting up with a yawn. She stretched out and then slowly climbed down from the top bunk.

"Good mornin'!"

Moth turned around and was face-to-face with the one thing she found very, very strange. A morning person.

"Heya Moth!" the boy was saying. He was grinning widely even this early in the morning. Moth only grunted in reply, but the boy seemed to take no notice. He was holding out a small bundle to her as he spoke. "Blink told me 'bout ya. I figgered if you was lost an' all, ya migh' need dese."

Moth raised her eyebrows and accepted the bundle. "Thanks, um…?"

The boy tipped his cap. "Mush, dat's me name," he said.

"Thanks, Mush," Moth said, and took the bundle over to the bottom bunk, which was unoccupied. She spread it out and realized with a wave of gratitude that it was a shirt. Two, actually, one long-sleeved white one and a button-up one to go over it. She gathered them up again and changed in one of the stall-like things across one wall. She also borrowed someone's comb and hoped it didn't have lice on it or something, because she needed to get her hair back in order or else people might think she'd stuck a fork in an electrical circuit. She was not, however, about to borrow someone's toothbrush, so she just used her finger. She was weirded out by the fact that they apparently used baking soda instead of toothpaste though. Whatever, what was the difference anyway?

"Hey, it's Moth!"

Moth turned at the sound of Jack's voice and spewed something unintelligible through the baking soda filling her mouth with a decidedly unpleasant taste.

"What?"

Moth spat into the sink and then replied, "I _said_, who did you think it was, stupid?"

"Oh," Jack said. "I tought you wasn't acceptin' charity."

Moth smiled and looked at Jack from under the brim of her hat. "I'm not. I'm a newsie now."

Everyone started to rush out of the large room and down the stairs. "Hurry up! Yer gonna be late, Cowboy!" called one short boy as he followed the others down the stairs.

"Yeah, I'm comin', Race," Jack called after him. "Guess we bettah hurry," he added to Moth.

"Guess so," Moth answered, and ran down the stairs before Jack could blink.

"Hey! Wait!"

Moth only laughed and dashed out the door into the sunlight, chasing after the other newsboys as they made their way down the dusty road, laughing and vaulting over barrels. Moth leapt on top of one and joined in the fun. She was actually starting to enjoy this dream. She felt carefree and happy, and she smiled to herself and thought, _I hope I don't wake up too soon…_

"Ya comin', Moth?" Blink asked.

Moth hopped down from the barrel and started walking next to Blink, who was soon joined by Mush as well. They all kept going, messing around and running and jumping over other various objects until they heard the sound of cart wheels and horses trotting up to the group. Everyone gathered around the cart and instantly quieted. Atop the cart were some nuns, their black habits billowing out in the morning breeze. They began to hand out coffee, water, and some bread to the newsies gathered around.

"Here you go, dear," one of them said as moth accepted a small cup of water and a chunk of bread.

"Thanks," Moth answered and hurried off to join the others, guzzling down the water and stuffing practically the entire chunk of bread in her mouth.

"You was hungry, eh?" commented the short kid Moth now knew was named Racetrack.

She nodded emphatically and swallowed just as they reached the tall iron gates where all the newsies came to a stop and crowded around, waiting for the gates to open. Suddenly, two boys wearing ugly sneers and bowler hats that even Moth thought were kind of dopey approached. A few of the newsies commented that there seemed to be a smell of rotten eggs in the air, and the other newsies ignored the boys.

Moth was just joking around with Race, Blink, and Mush, when one of the boys came a little too close and tipped his hat mockingly.

"How do you do, missy?" he said, and the other boy grinned like a goon.

"Fine thanks, now get out of my face," Moth growled.

"Oooh, I'm scared now," the boy replied and started to move a step closer. He never could though, because his nose was met with Moth's knuckles, and before he knew what had hit him, her left hook hit him in the side of the head and he stumbled back, holding his nose, which was starting to trickle a little blood.

"See ya later, boys," Moth said as sweetly as she could, and dipped the brim of her cap a few inches with her forefinger and thumb, dainty as a china teacup. Both boys shot her angry, threatening looks, but they couldn't stick around for very long as the newsies erupted into laughter.

"Dat would be da Delancey bruddahs," Race said, taking a cigar out of his pocket.

"And that," Moth added proudly, "would be the Delancey brothers running to mommy."

Her new friends laughed. Then, still smiling, they turned around and watched the tall iron gates swing slowly open.


	5. Stories

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Do not. As in, no. Gracias, amigos. On with the story!!_

"_You_ punched Morris Delancey right on da nose?" jack asked in disbelief. "No way."

Moth sighed. "Yes way. Yes." She rolled her eyes and moved on with the line closer to the window. "Get over it, _Cowboy_."

The window was in front of her now. Behind the bars, a fat, scruffy-looking man asked Moth gruffly, "Well? Ya buyin' papes or what?"

"Yeah, I'm buyin' papes," Moth answered insolently. She dug in her pockets and found a dime. "How many can I get for this?" she asked.

The man behind the counter opened his mouth, but Jack answered first. "Twenty," he said.

The fat man glared at Jack.

"Sorry, Weasel," Jack said with a careless shrug.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are," the fat man replied sarcastically. "And it's Wisely. _Mr._ Wisely!"

Moth collected her 20 papes from a glowering, red-nosed Delancey and smiled. "Thanks, _Mr._ Weasel!" she said cheerfully to the fat man, and jumped down to join the others at the bottom of the steps.

About an hour later, Moth had sold about half of her papes, maybe a little more. She followed jack's example of lying, pocketing the pennies, and making a run for it. Actually, it wasn't so bad.

"Extra! Extra! Bloody massacre right here in this city!" she yelled. "Hundreds killed!"

Actually, people had finally had all the rats in some old theatre exterminated, as the story said on page ten. Moth made a few on that, ran a couple blocks, and then slowed down. She didn't see any other newsies she recognized, so she just kept walking, sort of aimlessly. Soon she realized she was on a suspension bridge, and she walked over to the edge and peeked over the railing at the water below. Suddenly, the urge to yell off the side overtook her, and Moth was barely containing herself when she heard an unwelcome voice behind her say,

"Hey! Get offa my bridge, ya liar!"

Moth spun around. "My, my," she said, "it's the great Spot Conlon himself." She glared. "So I'm the lair now?"

Spot pulled a black cane out of his belt and held it at the bottom, so the golden, round part at the top was only inches away from Moth's face. "Yeah," he said. "Now get offa my bridge or I'll soak ya!"

Moth didn't blink. "Will you now?" she asked calmly, looking at him from under the brim of her cap. His blue eyes glared daggers in her direction. "Who says this is _your_ bridge?"

Spot looked surprised for a minute, but he quickly hid his emotions behind a sneer. "Me," he replied. "I'se da King a Brooklyn, an' since ya knows it now you'll go back ta Man'att'n, where ya belongs."

"You have no idea where I belong," Moth retorted, and lunged for the key.

Spot's cane came down like a sword and swatted her back, hard. Moth stopped, frozen, blue eyes wide, and reached back to slap him. But she fell to the ground instead, and sat with her back against the railing of the bridge. She tilted her head back, stretched her legs out straight, and closed her eyes.

Moth, for the first time since arriving in New York, felt defeated.

A few brief moments later, Moth heard Spot ask, "Are you a'right?"

Moth's eyes fluttered open. "What do _you_ think?" she snapped, and then, without really knowing why, she began to tell him the whole story.


	6. Did I Miss Somethin?

_Disclaimer: I t'nod nwo seiweN. (in case you can't read backwards: I don't own Newsies.)_

_A/N: Sorry, this one took a little longer to update because I was camping. But I'm back now, along with 30 mosquito bites. Darn mosquitos!_

Jack could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Moth and Spot leaning against the railing of the bridge, talking like old friends. Just the night before, they had been worst enemies. And now—

"Hey! Jack!" Moth waved and jack walked over to join them.

"Heya Jackie-boy," Spot said good-naturedly.

Jack was still confused. "Did I miss somethin'?" he asked.

Moth laughed. "Not much. Just finished selling my papes a few minutes ago, thanks to Spot."

Jack gave Spot a questioning look.

"Whadda ya lookin' at, Cowboy?" he demanded. "I ain't allowed ta help her sell papes in exchange fer a look at da futcha?"

"Ya don't _believe_ her, do ya?" Jack asked incredulously. "I mean—ya don't think she's really from da futcha or somethin'?"

"Hey!" Moth said, waving her arms in Jack's face. "I'm right here! Don't talk about me like I'm not!"

"Yeah, Jackie-boy," Spot said teasingly. "Yer jus' mad cuz I'se smarter den you."

Jack shook his head and a small smile crossed his face. "Nah. I us' can't believe ya believe in time travel. What next?"

"What next?" Moth repeated. "Next, we eat! Sheesh, I'm starving."

"Yeah, me too," Spot said. "Come on, you can see da rest a Brooklyn on da way." And he and Moth went off, walking casually across the bridge as though they hadn't a care in the world.

Jack just stood there for another minute, watching them go, still wondering what had really taken place to make them become so friendly to each other in so little time. His thoughts were broken into by the sound of Spot and Moth yelling off the side of the bridge.

"Can't beat 'em, join 'em," Jack muttered to himself before running after them yelling, "Wait up! I'm hungry too, ya know!"

_Yeah, I know. It's short, but I promise the next one will be a bit longer. Things are bound to get more interesting, you agree? Well, guess you'll have to find out!_

_Peace, people! _


	7. Pilla fight!

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Which is good, because I am seriously absent-minded!_

_Okay, sorry, everybody! Lordy, I am really out of it sometimes. Yeah, how ironic that it was called Did I Miss Something… Yes, dandelion fairy! Yes, you did! Thanks, my faithful reviewers, for telling me! I fixed it now, though, so enjoy! _

Before Moth closed her eyes, she reviewed the day's events in her head. It was odd, she decided, that Spot believed her seemingly insane story about how she'd come to be in Manhattan, but in return for his belief in her, she had made up her mind not to bother him any more about the key. Now… Now Moth felt like she could trust him. Anyway, it was better if they didn't hate each other. Spot _had_ helped her sell that last of her papers, and after they talked for a while and ate lunch, it felt like Spot understood her perfectly. _So one person in this city doesn't think I'm brainwashed,_ Moth thought. _Maybe… Maybe I'm starting to like this dream after all._

"Moth? You awake up der?"

Moth peered over the edge of her bunk, slightly annoyed. "What?" she asked probably not in the most encouraging tone.

"You still thinkin' about that key?" Jack asked.

Moth sighed. "Sorta," she replied. "I mean, I believe him now. Spot. About the key. I just wonder how I could have found it, then."

Jack smiled. "You an' yer crazy moments," he said. "Who in their right mind would b'lieve they've got little boxes that heat da food for ya?"

Moth gave him a look. "I would," she replied, "and so would Spot. Now shut up and let me go to sleep."

"Yes, yer Highness," Jack said grumblingly.

Moth threw her pillow at him.

"Hey!" Jack said, throwing it back. Moth caught it and grinned.

"That's why they don't call me Your Mercifulness."

And she threw the pillow back. It missed as jack ducked out of the way and it hit Blink instead, right on the back of his head.

"What the--?" Blink said, then picked up the nearest pillow and threw wit at Snipeshooter, who happened to be standing nearby.

"It wasn't me!" Snipeshooter cried, chucking a pillow at Mush.

Soon the whole room had erupted in a giant pillow fight. Moth leapt down from the bunk and joined in, yelling along with everyone else. There was a great clamor and everyone was jumping around, throwing all the pillows they could find at anyone standing nearby. No one was really sure who had started singing first, but pretty soon everyone had joined in the chorus:

_I trow my pill-a at my neighba, an' hit 'im on da head! _

_Hit 'im so hard, dat since las' week, he ain't got outta bed!_

Pretty soon, just like any classic (and usually, in Moth's opinion, corny) movie, feathers were floating down around them all like snow. But to Moth, at that moment, it didn't seem corny or stupid at all. It felt wonderful, free, and it made her so giddy that she herself climber atop a bunk and swung from the side, singing:

_I trow my pill-a at my neighba, an' hit 'im on da head! _

_Hit 'im so hard, dat since las' week, he ain't got outta bed!_

They all shouted, as loud as they could, feathers drifting all around, "HE AIN'T GOT OUTTA BED!"

Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, there was the old man, grinning and shaking his head. A few feathers settled on the brim of his hat, and when the newsies saw that they laughed until the old guy brushed them off.

"Yep, boys," he said. "Off to bed!" He looked around the room. "What's this with all the feathers?"

"Just… a little pill-a fight, Kloppman," Mush replied, trying his best to sound innocent.

The old man—Moth now realized his name was Kloppman—surveyed the room and saw her still hanging from the bunk. Moth grinned sheepishly.

"Lovely singing, young lady," he said, a twinkle in his eyes.

Moth hopped down and bowed deeply. "Thank you, thank you," she said, grinning broadly. "It was all my idea," she added, half with a smile and half in case the newsies would be in trouble for busting half the pillows.

Kloppman smiled. "Very well, then. You'll be in charge a makin' these boys sweep up these feathers." Then he reached down and picked up some feathers. Slowly, he lifted them up in his palm and blew them into the air again. With another kind smile, he tipped his hat and left the room.

Moth turned to the boys. "Well?" she said. "You bums hoid da man!" She did her best impression of New York accent. "Now get ta work!"

Jack grinned at Moth while the other newsies did their best to gather up the feathers and pile them up I the corner for the moment.

"Nice try wit da accent," Jack said teasingly.

"I do my best," Moth replied, picking up a few feathers herself. "You know," she added. "I hope I don't wake up _too_ soon."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"It was just too much fun to see you guys get beat by a girl!" she cried gleefully.

"Hey! Dat ain't fair!" jack protested, and Moth blew the feathers in his face.

"Hmm… yes, I suppose it is—for _you!_" she cried and ducked behind the bunk before melting into the crowd of newsies—no, they were more than that, she now knew. They were her friends.

_Ok, hope you liked it! Keep up the reviews, it makes me happy! D _

_Peace out!!_


	8. Dead End

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Obviously. _

Moth woke up that morning sneezing like crazy. Feathers had blown out of the pile during the night because one of the windows had been left open, and now a faint breeze lifted a few downy feathers and dropped them on her face.

"Ah- CHOO!" she sneezed loudly. A few bunks away, Blink woke up from the sound and groaned.

"Foirst Kloppman wakes us up—now you?" he moaned, burying his face in his thin mattress. He would have stuffed it under his pillow, but since last night it was missing all of its feathers, so it wouldn't have been much help.

"I don't mind," Mush said from below Blink.

"Jeez, Mush!" everyone awake groaned in unison.

"What? Is it a crime now ta wake up in da mornin'?" Mush responded indignantly.

"No," Moth replied, "But they can get you for disturbing the peace."

Even Jack opened one eye at that and smiled. "And you didn't?" he asked her.

"Indeed I did not," Moth replied, pretending to be offended with a small sniff, "The feather did."

"That was a fun pill-a fight!" someone said from the other end of the room.

"Yeah, I'd have ta agree on dat," Jack said.

Kloppman appeared in the doorway. "Already up?" he asked, looking surprised. "Whip 'em into shape, did ya miss?" he asked Moth.

"I do my best," Moth replied, climbing down from her bunk.

"Everyone up!" Kloppman called enthusiastically as always. "Carry da banner! Sell the papers!"

"Yes, sir!" Mush shouted, rolling out of bed, happy as a lark.

"Jeez, Mush!" everyone yelled at the same time again.

"Why do ya guys keep sayin' dat?" Mush exclaimed, clearly vexed.

"Nothing personal, Mushy," Moth said. "But you don't exactly come with a snooze button."

Now everyone looked confused. "Well, it's not my fault you're all living in the past," Moth grumbled before ambling off to the sinks.

"Crazy," Racetrack said, disguising his comment (poorly) as a cough.

"Heard that!" Moth coughed from the other side of the room.

"What a great start to da day," Skittery mumbled sarcastically as he reluctantly climbed down from his bunk. But on one paid him any mind—and before Moth knew it they were out selling papers again on many colorfully improved truths.

"Miracle Cure discovered! Extra! Extra!" Moth shouted, waving the paper above her head. "Read all about it!" About five people bought a pape—pape-ER, Moth reminded herself—on that one, and she collected her money and ran a block and a half before selling some more. After she had sold all of her papers, she was walking casually down the street, looking for a place to eat, when she saw Boots running frantically toward her. He kept glancing left and right, as though he were being watched.

"What?" Moth asked. "What is it, Boots?"

Boots looked up at her with wide eyes. "Him," he said in a hoarse voice, pointing down the street to a man in a black hat with a nose pointed like a rat or a ferret's. A police officer was behind the man.

"Him?" Moth asked. Boots nodded quickly and was off again in a blink. Moth followed. As soon as she started running, she realized she had made a mistake. Now the man in the hat was after her, too, but still she dashed madly after Boots. What a jerk she'd have to be to leave him to the wolves! He was scared, too, so Moth had no choice but to try to outrun the man in the hat and the officer behind him.

"Boots, wait!" Moth hissed, but of course Boots didn't hear her. She peeked a look over her shoulder and saw to her dismay that the man in the hat was gaining on them. She turned to face forward again, and as soon as she did Boots veered left and was gone before Moth realized what happened. She missed the turn completely but kept running desperately until—

"Oh—" Moth breathed, coming to a dead end. It was a brick wall, to high to jump. She couldn't think or move, couldn't even think of a word to finish her sentence. She hurried to the wall and tried to find a foothold to climb over, but before she could even get off the ground rough hands pulled her back and pulled her out to the regular street.

"Lemme go!" she screeched at the policeman holding her back, and then, snarling at the man in the hat she spat, "You rat!"

"Come along, girl," the hat guy said, his voice too sugary sweet. "You'll be staying in the Refuge."

Moth had no idea what the Refuge was, but if Boots had been running away it must be a place you definitely didn't want to be. And she certainly knew she hated the hat guy. He kept smiling and tipping his hat oh-so-gentlemanlike to the people they passed, as tough he wasn't practically kidnapping Moth. She continued to struggle, but to no avail. At last she gave up, and they dragged her through the gates to the Refuge. Tall, black, wrought-iron gates that looked forbidding and ominous. As soon as she was through the door, moth was sure of one thing: the next time she passed through this door, she was never looking back.

Across town, closer to Brooklyn than the Refuge, Blink and Mush had finished selling their papes for the moment and were just waiting around until the next edition needed selling. Suddenly, Boots came bursting out of nowhere, running toward them and breathing hard barely holding on to his last few papers.

"Heya Boots," Mush said nonchalantly.

Boots could only nod as he sat down to catch his breath. Finally he panted, "Moth… Snida got her, I think."

"Wait a minnit," Blink said, "What?"

"You hoid what he said," Mush said, jumping to his feet. "We'se gonna break her outta der tonight."

"Very good plan," Spot said, climbing down from his perch atop the brick wall Blink and Mush had been leaning against while sitting on the barrels.

"Spot Conlon," all three of the Manhattan newsies said, surprised.

Spot laughed at their expressions. "Don' worry, fellahs," he said, "I ain't here ta soak ya today."

"Dat's good," Boots said, clearly relieved he wouldn't have to run again. "So what ya heah for, den?"

Spot gave them a stop-being-so-stupid look and rolled his eyes. "Whadda ya think I'm heah for? Ta help ya bums get Moth outta da Refuge!"

"Really? Cowboy told us you two hated each other," Mush said.

"Yeah?" Spot replied, starting to walk away. "Well, I guess Jackie-boy was wrong, den. At least, he is now." Then he tipped his hat and disappeared around the corner, leaving the three others looking at each other dubiously.

"Whadda ya think he has in mind?" Mush asked.

"I dunno," Blink replied. "But I hope it works."

_That's all for now, folks! Don't forget to review! D_

_Peace out!_

_--dandelion fairy_


	9. Conspiring at the Window

_Disclaimer: I, dandelion fairy, so hereby swear, in the name of Larry the Croquet Mallet, that I do not own Newsies. What? Larry's name wasn't a solemn enough swear for you? Sheesh. _

The Refuge was full of orphan kids. There were other girls there, too, unlike at the lodging house, but Moth didn't talk to anyone at all. She had been trying all day to think of some way to stage some kind of jailbreak, some crazy plan to get her out of there, and maybe a few other kids as well. But so far, she could think of nothing. Besides, how was she supposed to escape with Snider (she had learned the hat guy's name at last) patrolling the halls like the warden of a prison?

"Stupid," Moth muttered to herself, sitting near the window. "He _is_ the warden of a prison."

"Hey." A girl who looked just a bit older than Moth came and sat down near her at the window. "Don't look so sad. It's not that bad here."

Moth managed a small smile, but she knew her eyes didn't reflect it. "Yeah, sure. Look, you don't have to try to make me feel better, okay? But thanks anyway."

The girl shook her head and looked down at her hands. They rested in her lap, her skirt smoothed, and Moth thought that this girl looked like a proper young lady, not some street kid like Moth was sure she herself looked like. "Well, then," the girl said, a bit sadly, "I suppose you… want me to leave you alone, then." She stood up to go.

"No!" Moth said, taking the girl's wrist and pulling her back. "I mean, you made me feel a little better, I guess."

The girl smiled and sat back down. "My name is Emma," she said.

"Mine's Moth," Moth replied. "How long have you been here?"

Emma shrugged and sighed. "I can't remember. I think… two years. But I don't know. It's hard to keep track of seasons when you don't get out at all. And every day here is the same."

Moth clenched her hand into a fist. "That's not fair! Two years!" she exclaimed, incredulous.

Emma's eyes widened. "Shh!" she hissed, and gestured to the hall. Moth saw Snider's silhouette on the wall near the doorway.

"Thanks," she told Emma when he had passed.

"No sweat," Emma replied, then laughed. "There I go again! Talking all funny like some of the others here. I used to live with my mum," she explained, her tone suddenly solemn, "But when she got the fever…"

Moth gave her a sympathetic look. "It's okay," she said. "I know what probably happened. You don't have to tell me."

Emma nodded, then asked, "So… what were you before you came here?"

"A newsie," Moth replied, picking up her hat and showing it to Emma. "And proud of it, too."

"I see," said Emma with a smile. "Is it fun?" she asked. "I mean… not to pry, but I've never had any sort of real adventure in my life. Before this, I lived in a rather large home, with all the comforts and that."

"Yeah?" Moth said. "Well, I guess the life of a newsie isn't all that easy. But my friends… they're the best. I haven't been here very long, but I already feel…" she paused and looked around at the bare walls that were keeping them imprisoned. "At least, at the lodging house and out there on the streets of good old Manhattan I felt at home. I don't know. I thought at first this was all a dream, because actually… It's a long story. But I came here and thought it was a dream, and now I'm just hoping I don't wake up until I get to see my friends again."

Now it was Emma's turn to look sympathetic. "It's going to be all right," she assured Moth. "I bet you'll see your friends again soon, right? Maybe," she added hopefully, "Maybe Snider will have to let you out!"

Moth laughed humorlessly. "Sure," she replied, "As soon as the dear Mr. Snider eats his boots."

Emma burst out laughing. Her exuberant laughter lifted Moth's spirits, and everyone else's who heard it.

"Look, Emma," Moth said as soon as the laughter died down, "This is not okay! You and everyone else here are trapped… and, I need to get you all out."

"How?" Emma asked. "How will we get past Snider?"

Moth shrugged. "Well, I could use some help with that. That is, if you want to help me."

Moth found herself being hugged by a suddenly happy Emma. "You're just the person we've been waiting for!" Emma exclaimed in a loud whisper.

"Okay, then," Moth said, grinning. She pulled on her hat with an air of finality. They were getting out tonight, she was sure of it.


	10. Eat Your Boots, Snider!

_Disclaimer: Okay, if Larry wasn't good enough, meet Pierre! "Ello, I am ze French dude Pierre. And my friend and I do not own Newsies, whatever zat silly zing is, anyway. Just a bunch of silly Amer-ee-can boys singing. What is ze point of zat?" "Thank you, Pierre. Now, go insult something else, will you?"_

"Okay," Spot said to Mush and Blink. Jack was now with them too. "On da count a tree, we splits up, ya got it?"

"Get on wit it!" Mush whispered fiercely. "I jus' wanna get it over wit 'fore we gets caught!"

"Suddup, Mushy," Spot replied. "Why does I always hafta tell ya dat anytime we does somethin' involvin' a plan? Huh?"

"Aw, come on," Blink interceded for his friend. "He don't mean ta be disrespec'ful."

"Guys!" Jack whispered loudly. "Shut it! Remember where we are?"

"Shh!" Spot hissed. "Did you heah somethin'?"

Everyone was silent for a minute, and then it came again: "Jack? Spot? That you?"

The four boys turned and saw, in the ground floor window just behind the gates, Moth. "Moth!" Spot exclaimed, still whispering. "How'd you get in der? Dat's Snider's office!"

Moth rolled her eyes. "Sheesh, don't ask questions! I need your help! You have to get us out!"

The boys exchanged a look. "Us?" Jack asked.

Another girl appeared at the window. Her hair was reddish-brown and hung in curls, if they were a bit bedraggled. "Yes! Us!"

"We can't be stagin' a major jailbreak scene—" Spot began, but then he stepped closer to the gate just as the other girl stepped into the light, nearer to the window. "Unless," he added quickly, "we can come up wit a plan. Quick!"

Five minutes later, Moth and Emma were in position at the upstairs window of their original room. Mush was slowly being lowered down from the roof by Blink, and Spot was ready with his slingshot on a ledge on the adjacent window. Jack was climbing in Snider's office window, and now all they needed was a signal. Moth ducked away from the window and walked slowly toward the door to the hallway. She took a deep breath and assured herself that the plan would work perfectly. She and Emma had told the others in their room about it, and then spread to word to the other rooms by young boys who volunteered to serve as messengers. "One…" Moth whispered to herself, "Two… three." Then she closed her eyes and—

SCREAMED!!

Outside, the boys all winced in unison as they heard the ear-splitting shriek fill the night, long and shrill.

Moth kept screaming until she felt Snider grab her shoulders. "What's the matter with you?" he bellowed.

She stopped creaming and yelled hysterically, "SPIDERS!! SPIDERS!! GIANT SPIIIIIII-DERRRRRRRSSSSS!! NOOOOO!!"

Snider, clearly furious, pulled her out into the hall and stood with his back to the room, just as planned. Moth barely hid a smirk. Behind Snider's back, one by one, kids were sneaking down the hall to the window, where mush was helping them all out and onto the roof.

"Girl!" Snider hollered above Moth's shrieking. "Shut your mouth! I don't care how large those bugs were, you will obey and BE QUIET!" his voice rose, intimidating to the average jailed orphan, but it almost made Moth smile. All the racket was drowning out the sound of footsteps on the roof, the escapees climbing down to the ground, and Mush's occasional 'oof!'s, whenever the rope swung dangerously or someone was hard to lift up to the roof. Moth continued to yell and jabber nonsense, while she looked past Snider to see that there were only a few more to go, and then…

"SHOOT, SPOT!" she screamed, as loud as she could.

Spot leapt through the window, taking his cue flawlessly, and shot a smooth, round rock from his slingshot at the back of Snider's head. Snider turned when it hit him, charging at the window just as mush lifted Spot out and onto the roof with the others. Emma ran to Moth, and together they dashed madly down the halls, down the stairs to Snider's office. Jack was there, waiting for them with a key ring with two keys on it in his hand. One of the keys would open the gate.

"Thanks, Cowboy," Moth said, taking the keys. Jack grinned and shoved the desk against the door to the office.

"This'll hold him for a few minutes once he knows I'm here. Now, go!" he yelled, and the girls scrambled out the window and ran toward the gate with the other orphans.

"Run!" Emma yelled at the others. "Hurry! You want to be locked up again?"

Moth tried the first key in the lock. Nothing happened. "Drat," she muttered, and fitted the second one in. She pushed and yanked until, with Snider breaking through the door to the office, the gate unlocked with a satisfying click. Moth pushed the gates and they swung outward dramatically. "RUN!" she yelled to everyone streaming out into the street. "Run! Hide! Get away!"

Emma was on the other side , practically shoving kids out through the gates. Inside the office, Moth saw out of the corner of her eye, Snider and Jack were fighting. A second later, Snider had thrown Jack into the desk, hard, and was climbing out the window frantically.

Mush and Blink were suddenly at the girl's side. "Heya, Moth!" Mush said happily, out of breath. "Thought we was gonna get caught."

The last two orphans dashed through the gates, and Snider was running toward the group of jailbirds, Jack close behind.

"We're not out of this yet," Moth told Mush. "Where's Spot?"

Snider was sprinting now. Jack was doing his best to catch up, but he was clearly hurt. He was gaining on the warden with every step, despite that fact.

"Run!" Blink yelled. "Spot can take care of himself!"

"Dat's right!" And then there was Spot, running by so fast that Moth barely glimpsed the proud grin on his face. They all followed Spot, running as hard as they could through the gates and down the street, Jack running along with them now. Everyone was breathing hard, and Snider was still after them. Suddenly Emma tripped over her long skirts and was down before Moth even realized what happened. Before she could turn around, there went Spot again, pulling Emma to her feet just as Snider reached her. Snider snatched Emma by her arm and started todrag her away when Spot drew his slingshot.

"Hands off, ya bum!" he yelled, hitting Snider right between the eyes twice, so fast that he tripped over his own feet and fell backward, landing on his rear end with his hat crooked on his head.

Before he could get up, Spot had pulled Emma away and they were running again. Moth paused just long enough to wave to Snider mockingly, and yell triumphantly,

"Eat your boots, Snider!"


	11. Spoons and the Jeopardy theme

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. All I own is… (digs in pockets) um, three pennies, half a butterfly sticker, the wrapper from a piece of gum, a ball of lint… _

_Sorry for keeping you waiting for a while, people! I was kinda busy lately… but I have returned!_

Due to the massive jailbreak, there were several new newsies all over the place, including Brooklyn and Manhattan. One of Manhattan's new newsies was, of course, Emma. The morning after the escape, most of the newsies decided it would be safer to take the day off, since Snider was probably prowling the streets, waiting to inflict his vengeance on any of the escapees. Moth took the opportunity to sleep in and then introduce Emma to all the newsies. She knew them all by name now, and she also told Emma how to make up good headlines and everything.

"So… we don't have to disguise ourselves as boys?" Emma asked.

Moth grinned. "No way!" she replied, and curtseyed deeply, dramatically flaring the corners of her skirt.

"Good," Emma said, fingering her long, curly hair.

Hanging around the lodging house wasn't very exciting, so of course Racetrack was soon playing poker with Mush, Blink, Jack, and Crutchy. He tried to get the others to put in some money, but of course they all refused.

"Ya put it in, ya lose it all," Jack said. "Besides, Race," he added, "don'cha get sick a poker?"

Moth piped up, "Hey, I can teach you Spoons, if you want."

Race looked up. "An' what's dat?"

Moth pulled up a chair and gathered up all the cards. "Someone bring me something we can use… like, buttons or something. It doesn't matter."

The point of the game was to have the same cards in your hand. You started with four, and then you tried to get, say, four kings or four two's, or whatever number. When you did, you grabbed an object off the table. Everyone else had to grab an object, but there was one less thing than people playing, so if you were the one who didn't get one, you got a letter. It started with S, and once you spelled Spoons, you were out and then it went on like that until there was one person left playing.

Once they had found enough small items, like buttons and whatnot, Moth got Emma a chair and started to teach them. Of course, in the beginning everyone was taking too long to pass the cards, so Moth, without thinking, started to hum the Jeopardy theme.

Jack gave her the usual 'you're crazy' look, but Emma started to hum along. It was infectious, the ridiculous Jeopardy theme, and soon Mush joined in, and then Blink, and then Crutchy and Race. The only one left was Jack, who seemed to have made a vow of silence. Moth looked up and stopped humming. Then she realized: Jack had tricked them all and taken a button without anyone noticing.

She lunged for a button. Chaos ensued.

Race practically jumped over the table to grab one, Emma shrieked, Mush and Blink tried to wrestle one from each other, Crutchy grabbed one and laughed at everyone else, and Jack looked smug.

In the end, Cowboy won. Race was the first one out, much to his dismay, and Moth nearly beat Jack. Nearly.

But the one thing that every single newsie would have because of that game of cards was the stupid Jeopardy theme, stuck in their heads for weeks on end.

"So what do I win?" Jack asked.

Moth gave him a look from under the brim of her hat. Jack put his hat on and mockingly did the same. He batted his eyelashes.

Moth cracked up. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "Not fair!"

"Well, den tell me what I wins!" Jack said.

"Fine." Moth rolled her eyes. "You win a free ticket to get pushed out the window, Cowboy."

"Well, I guess dat's better'n nothin'," Jack replied with a shrug.

_Yeah, this chapter was sort of pointless but I promise the action will be coming up again soon! This is kind of what happened to us at Girl Scout camp… we all started humming 'jeopardy' and then we couldn't stop. Also it was quite violent trying to grab the crayons. _

_Peace out!!_


	12. Deal

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. _

_Sorry people for the mix up with this chapter and sorry it took so long to fix, but I just figured if I was fixing it I might as well make a better chapter. So here it is! Enjoy. _

Moth was dreaming.

She dreamed that her mother was sitting at the table in the kitchen, holding her head in her hands, looking down. Her shoulders shook with what Moth knew were silent sobs, and she kept muttering, "Where did she go? Where is she?"

Moth was standing in the kitchen. She desperately wanted to comfort her mom, but she found that she couldn't speak. In her frustration she slammed both her hands down on the table, causing a pile of papers to go flying and an empty teacup to crash to the floor. It shattered, loud, and her mother looked up. Moth jumped up and down, but her mother seemed to look right through her. Instead she got up and looked around, saying, "Moth? Moth?" But she couldn't see her daughter standing there. So she took the broom and swept up the shards of the teacup, fresh tears springing to her eyes, and she called again so desperately, "Moth? Moth, why did you leave me?"

"Moth! Wake up!"

Moth's eyes flew open. She found that tears were running down her cheeks, and she was breathing hard. But she was cold. Terribly cold.

"You okay?"

Jack. It was Jack, standing there looking up with a worried expression on his face. Moth gulped down her sorrows and wiped her eyes, trying to steady her voice.

"What?" she asked, but her voice was wobbly despite her best efforts. Sheesh, would her eyes stop trying to spill over?

"Well—" he stepped closer so he wouldn't wake Emma below by talking—"you were talkin' to yerself, an' I was awake and I hoid ya say 'Mom, mom, it's me' but it sounded like you were cryin' an'—"

"And so you thought you had to come check on me? Sheesh, I'm not a little kid!" Moth furiously wiped her cheeks. Her eyes were seriously not cooperating. Why did they keep dripping all over the place?

"Well, I'se sorry, I didn' know--" Jack began.

Moth sighed quietly. She hated it when people saw her cry. Or heard her cry, for that matter. At school she had always been able to duck her head, gulp it down, and wear a stony expression for the rest of the day. Moth also did not appreciate being watched over by someone else, especially someone her own age. She lived by the rule she herself had decided on, which she now recited to Jack, cutting him off.

"I can take care of myself!"

She tried to make her voice hard, determined, but it cracked on the last word and she broke out in crying again. Why oh why…

"Look, it's just… It's my mom. I… I have to get back to her. Soon. What if she thinks… Jack, what if she thinks I ran away?" Moth couldn't help it. He looked so concerned, his face turned up, his eyes wide and honest.

"It'll be fine, you'll find a way," Jack said. But Moth knew he was just trying to make her feel better. Jack smiled a small smile, hoping to cheer her up. "Do ya need me ta tell you a bedtime story? I owes you da favor, anyway."

Moth was finally starting to calm herself down. It was just a dream, just a dream, she told herself. "Okay," she said. "So we can call it even."

Jack smiled again. "Okay den. Dis is da best one. Der was dis poor kid, an' der was dis rich kid, an' one day dey decided ta switch places, 'cause da rich kid was a half-wit, in my opinion, an' da poor kid wanted some money. So dey switched, an'--"

Moth opened her eyes to interrupt. "It's the prince and the pauper, isn't it?" she asked.

Jack grinned. "No," he replied, "It's da rich kid an' da newsie."

Moth rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling. It was a good thing her friends knew how to make her forget her troubles temporarily.

"Jack," she asked, "You'll help me, right? You'll help me find a way home?"

"Ya mean back to da madhouse?" he joked, "Or back to da futcha, or whateva?"

Moth gave him a look. "I think you know."

Jack grinned again. "Sure, sure. So long as ya keep sellin' papes while yer at it. Once a newsie, always a newsie," he added.

"Deal," Moth agreed, and held her hand out to shake.

Jack shook it a bit slower than usual, and he forgot to spit into his palm first. No matter—Moth didn't even notice, for once Jack had let go and crept back to his own bunk, she had closed her eyes and fallen peacefully asleep.

_That's all for now! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, and keep them coming!_

_-dandelion fairy D_


	13. Eureka!

_Disclaimer: I only own Moth. And Emma. As usual. _

_Sorry it took me so long! Short, but I hope you enjoy!!! _

Moth's eyes flew open. She flipped onto her stomach and peered over the side of her bunk. She was startled to see Emma looking up.

"Emma," she whispered. Emma nodded, her eyes bright with an idea. Moth grinned, knowing that her friend was thinking the same thing she was. "I've got the answer!" she said.

"Me too!" Emma whispered excitedly.

"Eureka!" Moth crowed.

But suddenly both their smiles dimmed and their expressions turned sober.

"But it doesn't help me much, does it?" Emma shook her head sadly in response to Moth's question.

So, after two weeks, they at last had thought of the answer to Moth's problem: how she'd come here, and how she could get back. But it wasn't as simple as Moth had hoped. Or maybe it was too simple.

"It's just… random." Moth said. "The answer is that I didn't do _anything_ differently. I was just… walking. I just tripped. That's it, no two ways about it."

"Exactly," Emma said. "So now… you're just stuck here, I guess." She sighed.

Moth gave a short, sarcastic laugh. "Yeah. Until fate deems I go home." She made a face. "This is not fair at all. My mom's probably…" she trailed off, trying to push the thought of her distraught mother out of her mind. She hated to think that her mom would worry, or think she ran away. Her heart gave a twist in her chest, but she tried to ignore it.

Emma climbed out of her bunk and up to Moth's. "It'll be all right," she said. "Maybe… maybe you're here for a reason," she suggested.

Moth bit her lip. "Like?"

Emma shrugged. "I guess we won't know until afterward."

Moth sighed. "I guess you could be right." She pondered Emma's words. "A reason…"

Later.... (though not much)

"A reason?" Jack snorted. "Maybe. But I think dat's been accomplished. Didn't da whole world see ya punch Morris Delancey? Dat should count for somethin'."

Moth laughed. "Well, he didn't learn much from it," she said. "He still hangs around, being a jerk."

"But he don't bother you," Jack pointed out.

"Yeah," Moth said, "but maybe it's… something bigger. A better reason."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Dis is almost as crazy as you thinkin' yer from da future."

"I am!" Moth insisted.

"If you say so."

"I say so," Emma said, cutting in.

Moth gave Jack a smug look.

Jack sighed and shook his head. "Fine, you win."

Moth grinned.

_That's all for now, folks!!!! _


	14. Guilt, Hunger, and Mild Curiosity

_Disclaimer: I only own Moth. And Emma. As usual. _

Later that day, Moth had finished selling her papers. She was hungry, but she didn't get anything to eat, so she would have some time to find Spot. She had to tell him about her new theory. And so she walked the whole long way to the Brooklyn bridge, thinking that it was the most likely place to find him.

He wasn't there. So Moth waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"This is seriously ridiculous," Moth muttered as her stomach growled again. She was about to leave when—finally!—Spot showed up.

"Jeez, where were you?" Moth demanded.

Spot shrugged carelessly. "Around. I gots betta things ta do than jus' sit around, ya know."

"Me too," Moth growled. "But this is important." She told Spot her theory about how to get back home.

"Some theory," he said. "Sounds more like ya ran outta ideas."

"Well, I kinda did," Moth reminded him. "I mean, I thought maybe I just needed to figure out what I did differently to get here in the first place, but all I could think of was when I tripped, and accounting for how clumsy I am, if I time traveled every time I tripped I'd be in the stone age by now."

"When was that?" Spot asked, chuckling, "When Joseph Pulitza was born?" he snickered at his own joke, but Moth just stared at him.

"Did you just say Joseph Pulitzer?" she asked.

"Yeah, so?"

"_The_ Joseph Pulitzer?"

"Yeah!" Spot said. "What's the big deal? He's jus' some old rich guy. We sells his papes every day. What's so special 'bout dat? I mean, he's okay an' all, I guess…"

Moth smiled. "Pulitzer's famous, even in my time. They have some kind of prize named after him and everything."

Spot sighed suddenly.

"What?" Moth asked. "What did I say?"

"Nothin'" Spot answered. "Just all this, 'my time' stuff. Ya ever think that maybe you'se stuck here too? Even after you'se gone? I bet they're still gonna be hummin' that stupid song for years…"

He trailed off. Moth began to wonder, in a guilty sort of way, if Spot was right after all and she was really a part of this time now, too. But she just had to get back, because she couldn't forget her nightmare, how her mother was crying… Moth couldn't do that to anyone back home, or in the future, or whatever you wanted to call it. Later, she decided, it would wait until later.

Luckily, Spot spoke up again. "So how'd ya decide on this theory anyways?"

Moth shrugged. "I don't know. It just came to me. And Emma too," she added.

"Speakin' of Emma, have ya seen her?"

"Yeah," Moth said absently. "she's over that way." She gestured to the Manhattan side of the bridge.

"Thanks," Spot said. "See ya." And he was gone.

Moth stood there for another minute, then decided that it was high time she had lunch. As she walked away from the bridge, she was full of a mix of feelings. Mostly guilty because of what Spot had said; still hungry and wondering how she was even going to buy anything with not a lot of money and still have enough to get her papers tomorrow… Oh, and a tiny bit curious about why Spot was so eager to find Emma, of all people the King of Brooklyn could have been looking for.


	15. Intermission

Hey guys.

To be perfectly honest I never thought I would update this story ever again. Life became busy, I wrote other stuff, I didn't watch Newsies for a long time, and basically the story got buried and forgotten. Then a random series of events reminded me of it and how much fun it was to write, and all the grand ideas I had for it. So I hope to finish it. It may take a little time but I am planning on putting up a new chapter quite soon.

So all in all I wanted to say sorry to leave you hanging if you were reading it, and if you just found it or whatever, well, just ignore this I guess.

To conclude, I will also say that I'm suddenly really intimidated about posting a new chapter. So if you like the story (or think it ought to be better) I'd like to hear your thoughts; it will make me feel less like I'm standing in an empty hallway lit by flickering fluorescent lights, with a cold wind blustering around me… Yeah, a little dramatic but still. I have not been here in FOREVER.

Love,  
dandelion fairy


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